


What Was Lost

by NebulousMistress



Series: Sides of the Same Coin [1]
Category: Danny Phantom, Ghostbusters (Movies)
Genre: Gen, Pre-Series
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-04-09
Updated: 2013-04-23
Packaged: 2017-12-07 23:45:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 14,694
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/754494
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NebulousMistress/pseuds/NebulousMistress
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>'What Was Lost' follows one Vladimir Masters from the horrible accident that took his humanity to the terrible deals made to regain his future. Villains are often born. But sometimes... they are created.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Contracts

**Author's Note:**

> Before the portal accident Vlad was just a normal grad student, admittedly with abnormal interests. But then things happened. First a portal accident, then the ecto-acne, then it degenerated into radiation sickness. Trapped in a failing body with a set of glowing red eyes and the ghost who offers a way out if only he'd agree to this one little thing...

The isolation rooms at the University of Wisconsin's teaching hospital were quiet. Quiet, blank, sterile, bright despite the lack of any windows. Occasionally a bad case of the measles would find its way into these rooms or sometimes a particularly difficult case of tuberculosis. The man in the last room on the row had no such disease.

Shockingly white hair splayed across the pillow. Deathly pale skin blended in with the white sheets, the white walls, the white tubes and floor and lights. The only spots of color were the result of acute radiodermatitis, bright red blisters and seeping patches where the skin of his face was damaged and peeling away. Occasionally pale blue eyes would open and stare blankly at the wall of glass separating him from the hallway.

Today they opened to see a group outside his room staring in, taking notes. Maybe a dozen people about his age, medical students, led by a single doctor. He could hear them...

"This patient was admitted with severe facial dermatitis and debilitating headaches," the doctor said. "After a cursory investigation into this young man's activities radiation exposure was suspected and treatment began with palliative care and potassium iodide. Mild leukopenia began to present itself 16 days after initial exposure. At this point the patient was put into isolation. Treatment with potassium iodide was stopped and palliative care continued. The patient's leukopenia progressed to moderate at 27 days and severe at 31 days, leading to complete immune system collapse at 32 days. Broad spectrum empirical therapy was started on the onset of fever at 25 days. Now then, who can tell me what's abnormal about this case?"

"He still has hair," said one of the students. "Though it has turned white..."

"That is correct. In fact, according to the patient that was his natural hair color before his exposure. Yes, according to all known research on acute radiation exposure, epilation is supposed to occur after exposure to 300 rad. His exposure is still unknown but because of his blood count is estimated at greater than 1000 rad. However the timing of the onset of his symptoms suggest a much lower dose, closer to 200 rad. An additional oddity was the lack of any gastrointestinal symptoms. Generally, the onset of vomiting is used to determine time of exposure in doses above 400 rad. Biopsy has not yet been performed because of danger to the patient but as soon as we can get him into autopsy we'll be taking samples of all of his tissues to determine the exact effects of exposure."

"He's looking at us..." One of the students was looking in on the man in the bed, staring straight into blue eyes so pale that their color washed away in the white room. Eyes that stared straight back at them. "What is his mental state?"

"Difficult to assess. He is currently too weak to respond to questioning and this is not expected to improve. However, an EEG was run yesterday and showed some very interesting activity, as though he is not only conscious but being constantly stimulated."

Behind those blue eyes the white-haired man struggled against what was happening to him. His body had all but shut down, his consciousness turned inward. Abandoned by friends and family, Vlad Masters could do nothing but despair in the darkness that was his own mind. And yet...

He wasn't alone. He could feel it. Something was here in the dark with him, something he didn't understand. Sometimes he thought he could sense it: a flash of burning red eyes, the smell of ozone before a lightning strike, the feel of strong arms enveloping him from behind. He could sense it now, a burning hot presence wrapping around him and pulling him away from the bright white light of the hospital room. Away from the eyes that looked back at him. Away...

The world grew dark as his eyes drifted shut.

The normally quiet isolation room came alive with noise as alarms began to sound. A doctor and two nurses ran up, spending precious few moments pulling on masks and gloves before breaking containment and barging into the isolation room. The crash cart was wheeled in as a quick, heated discussion debated the merits of even trying. In the end, a dozen medical students watched from the hallway as the paddles were considered then dismissed. One by one the machines were turned off.

Thirty five days after he was blasted in the face by an attempt to open a portal to the ghost dimension, 25 year old Vladimir Masters was declared dead.

And yet...

Vlad opened his eyes to darkness. The heat pressed on him from all sides, oppressive and heavy like an approaching storm. He felt curiously weightless, not falling but not resting on anything. Almost like... nothing...

"Am I dead?" he asked. The sound echoed as it left his throat, reverberating as though he was hearing himself from far away.

_That's up to you..._

Vlad spun around, peering into pitch blackness. He could **hear** that voice though it made no sound. It sounded almost like his own but deeper, softer, a distinct purring note beneath its surface. Still, he wished he could see where it was coming from...

Coalescing out of the void stepped a... man? A man made of the darkness that surrounded them. Sparks spread from this man, forming red and white flowing cloth. Deep red eyes glowed from within that face of darkness.

"Who... who are you?" Vlad asked. He tried to back away from this dark figure but no matter how much he tried it seemed as though he couldn't move.

_That's up to you isn't it, bokor?_

"B-bokor?" Vlad didn't know what a bokor was much less why this... entity would address him as such. "I-I'm not a..."

Those red eyes turned calculating. An easy grin spread through the darkness, showing cruelly pointed fangs. _Of course. For now, houngan, you may call me Ge Rouge._

Vlad shuddered at the creature's fangs. He couldn't call this a man anymore, not even in his own mind. "Are you a... ghost?" he asked.

Ge Rouge made a displeased noise and then came closer. Heat and darkness seemed to flow around Vlad, imprisoning him as he felt around for some way out. _I have been called that, I admit. It is not a term I choose, houngan._

"Nor is 'houngan' a term I choose," Vlad said. It would help if he knew what that term meant. "My name is Vlad. Now then, ghost, where are we? How did we get here?"

_This is your mind, houngan. I am here because Legba opened the Way and I attempted to mount the horse offered to me. Imagine my surprise when I was mounted instead. I've been here ever since, within the depths of your mind. How did **you** get here?_

"I..." Vlad couldn't answer. The last few weeks were a blur of pain and loneliness, of fever and delirium. "The last thing I remember was seeing a group of medical students staring at me like I was nothing more than a research specimen. I was so tired of it, just so tired. I... fell asleep?" No, that wasn't right. It was different from mere sleep, very different. Something was fundamentally wrong here.

_Of course... You, ah, 'fell asleep'._

Vlad glared at the ghost and its voiceless mocking words. He knew that this was something more, something worse than sleep or even a coma. That didn't mean he was willing or able to admit it. He wasn't dead, he was just dreaming.

Just dreaming...

Then why couldn't he wake up?

*****

Hours, days, an eternity later Vlad opened his eyes to a flash of light. He found himself unable to move, cold and naked on a metal table. There was a sheet over him but someone was holding it up. He recognized one of the doctors who'd treated him, one who'd dismissed his explanation of 'ecto-acne' and scolded him for careless lab practices. After all, a physicist should know better than to intentionally expose himself to a beta radiation source. The scoldings only stopped after Vlad had gone on a long-winded, angry rant about Jack Fenton and his careless idiocy. Who in the hell even turns on a machine with their lab partner's head **inside** it? Jack knew what he was doing, he was looking right at the proto-portal when he activated it, he saw Vlad was in the way and yet he still activated the thing without a single thought to his friend's safety. Right?

Vlad tried to demand what was going on. He couldn't move his mouth. He couldn't seem to breathe, either. And it was so quiet without the pounding of his heart in his ears...

Oh god...

Vlad screamed, a silent echo that reverberated within his own mind, unable to escape. He watched as gloved hands grabbed his eyelids and slid them shut.

Darkness.

Strong arms wrapped themselves around him from behind. A red glow to his left told him the creature was there, right behind him, its head resting on his shoulder. _You're dead, houngan._

"I'm not dead, I can't be dead! No, this isn't happening!" Vlad knew he was panicking but this seemed like the perfect time for it.

_Your body lies dead and broken at the mercy of the undertaker. Soon you'll be laid in a coffin and buried. Accept it, houngan. The caress of satin, the reek of pine, the steady thump of the gravedigger's shovel as he dumps warm earth over your bed..._

Vlad pulled away from the ghost and whirled to face it, blue eyes flashing. "Shut up!" he shrieked. "Just shut up! I'm not dead! I'M NOT DEAD!"

_You are. I've always liked the sound of the digger's shovel. It's like having a heartbeat again. Almost as good as the drums..._

Vlad swung wildly, throwing punch after punch at the ghost in front of him. Each time he missed as he seemed to misjudge exactly where the darkness ended and the ghost began. Or maybe it was just toying with him, laughing as he exhausted his fury and despair bubbled up in its place. Through tear-clouded eyes Vlad swung at those red eyes and connected with something! A moment of surprise was all he managed to feel before a black hand gripped his wrist and suddenly there was nothing but pain. He screamed as his body burned away in an instant, replaced by fire, smoke, electricity, the stench of ozone.

As fast as it began it stopped. He was whole again, or as whole as he could expect to be in this place. He sank to his knees as the reality of his situation came crashing down on him. He was... No, not dead. He wasn't dead. He couldn't be dead otherwise how would he have been able to look through his own eyes? He must still be alive somehow. Alive and trapped within his own mind with the red-eyed monster that watched him from arm's length. There had to be a way out of this. There just had to be.

"There's a way out," he mused aloud. "I know there is. I just have to find it."

Ge Rouge smiled.

*****

Vlad was exhausted. He'd been trying everything he could think of. He couldn't move anything. He couldn't even tell how badly he was failing at it because he couldn't open his eyes to **see** his body. No matter how loud he screamed it always echoed right back at him, trapped within walls he could never reach. He'd tried pacing the edges of his mind only to find himself always in the center no matter how far or in which direction he walked. And always that damnable creature was there, watching him with amusement. Vlad glared at the red eyed ghost.

_Found your way out yet?_

Vlad didn't answer.

_You could always give up. Dance with the Baron. It would be easy. I could show you how._

"You're offering to show me how to kill myself," Vlad said, sullenly.

_Of course not. You're already dead, remember?_

"I'm not dead."

_So you say._

"Look, either say something useful or shut up!"

Vlad didn't like the way the red-eyed ghost was looking at him. It looked... hungry. Scheming. It knew something...

_There are ways out of every prison. Though sometimes the way out is worse than staying within._

It definitely knew something. Vlad glared at the ghost and refused to rise to its bait.

He had to admit, though, that it was right. There were ways out of every prison. That meant there were ways out of this one, too. He just had to find it.

*****

Light flooded Vlad's eyes and he could hear the sound of a vast tray being moved. He was cold, so cold, and still naked. He looked up into bright fluorescent lights and a face he'd never seen before. Curious eyes looked him over before turning to say something, words he couldn't hear.

_All right... **now...**_ Vlad thought to himself before throwing everything he had into something simple, something unmistakable. He tried with all his might to blink. Just a blink, that's all he wanted. Just one single, simple little... No. No! No no nonononono...

Back in his own mind again Vlad screamed in frustration as gloved hands yanked his eyes closed. He collapsed onto the floor of... wherever he was... and tried not to cry.

A tiny portion of his psyche pointed out that at least it was warm here. He ignored it and curled into a ball.

_There is still a way out..._

"No there isn't," Vlad said. "I could feel where my body is now. It's in the morgue freezer. Next time they bring me out it'll be for autopsy. Even if by some miracle I'm not dead now I will be as soon as they start taking my organs out."

_And if you awaken on the coroner's slab before you take the knife?_

"I've tried. I've tried..." Vlad buried his face in his arms. He wouldn't cry. Even if all there was to see him was a red-eyed ghost he wouldn't cry. He was too proud to cry.

_I haven't tried._

It took a moment for those words to sink in, a moment before Vlad found himself sitting up and staring at the ghost in wonder. "You would do that?" he asked, almost afraid to hear the answer. "For me?"

_Of course I can't just awaken you and then be on my way. It doesn't work that way._

"Of course not." Vlad wasn't sure if he was disappointed or not.

_There are conditions..._ Ge Rouge smiled and pulled a glowing rose-colored scroll out of the darkness surrounding them. He handed the glowing scroll to Vlad.

Vlad opened the parchment and... Um... "I, ah, don't read French," he admitted.

Ge Rouge looked unsurprised. _It's a standard possession contract. It identifies you as a prepared vessel, as a horse to be ridden. It identifies me as the one who will make the claim of possession. I will be the one to ride you for as long as I so choose._

Vlad thrust the contract away. "I will not be forced into the back of my own mind," he snapped. "I would rather **die** than be forced to watch some **thing** live my life for me!"

_You would not, I assure you. Certain conditions are necessary for me to subsume your mind. The most I would do is influence. Whispers in your ear suggesting a course of action. In return you would have access to some of my power. As conditions change the powers you have access to will change as well._

"I don't know... I wish I could read this..."

Ge Rouge floated behind Vlad and ran a black hand through white hair. Vlad felt his eyes slip closed as sparks danced along his neurons. When he opened them again the contract was in... wait... It was still written in French but he could understand it now. He looked at the ghost, confusion etched plainly on his face.

_Consider that a taste of what this could mean._

Vlad nodded and looked down at the contract again.

'I, the undersigned, hereafter to be known as the horse do accept...'

Vlad couldn't believe he was considering this.

*****

He didn't want to sign it. He didn't want to be dead. He didn't want this to have happened to him. Here he was, Vlad Masters, PhD candidate at the University of Wisconsin, trapped within his own mind with a creepy red-eyed ghost. Trapped within his dead body like some sort of zombie, unable to contact the outside world, unable to tell them that he was still here. Trapped and considering a possession contract.

He knew what it said. The more he used this ghost's power the more of himself he would lose. But then it wasn't as though the ghost got off, either. The more power the ghost offered the more of itself it would lose. In all likelihood this would end with the both of them subsumed into some strange new whole, a creature neither ghost nor human. Something in between.

It was not a comforting thought.

_Decide, Vlad. Decide quickly._

"What?"

A flash of light and Vlad could see what was happening outside. He was laid out on an autopsy table. One doctor was fitting himself with a mask, another was already holding the scalpel.

_Decide. Sign it. Sign!_

The hand holding the quill paused, unsure what to do.

The knife descended.

**_SIGN!_ **

*****

The first drag of the scalpel induced a minor muscle twitch. Nothing abnormal, especially for a body as relatively fresh as this one. The second one coincided with a much more serious twitch, almost knocking over a tray. The coroner checked for a pulse, just to make sure, but of course he wasn't going to find one. Death by radiation poisoning, over a day in the freezer, this guy was well and truly dead.

The third cut finished as the dead guy sat up and screamed, sending the coroner to the opposite end of the room. A code blue was called for the morgue, sending a team of nurses scurrying in to try keep this guy from dying again.

Twenty seven hours after he was declared dead Vladimir Masters woke up.

*****

"You have no idea how glad I am that your organization is willing to take Mr. Masters in as a patient," the doctor said. He stood outside the long term ICU with a man in a white suit. Inside the room young Vlad Masters lay sleeping, still fading in and out of consciousness same as he had been since he woke up during autopsy a week prior.

"Of course, of course," said the man in white. "By the way, whatever happened to his lab partners?"

"Well, the incident was legally ruled 'accidental' so neither of his lab partners will be facing charges. In terms of academic action, on the other hand... Well, Jack Fenton was held ethically responsible and has had his candidacy stripped and all of his completed units revoked. He will never be admitted by a domestic university again. Madeline Walker was also found responsible but to a lesser capacity. She's been placed on academic probation for one year and will be unable to apply for grants during that time. If she stays with the university she won't be getting a stipend. She's going to find her education suddenly becoming very expensive."

"Basically, unless they manage to discover something spectacular their futures have been irreparably damaged. Fitting given this young man almost lost his life. But I meant in terms of reactions. Have either of them shown signs of exposure to dangerous substances?"

The doctor shook his head. "Nothing out of the ordinary. Fenton was in here a couple of times for alcohol poisoning. Probably not what you're looking for."

"We just need to assess the possibility that the contamination that led to this man's exposure may have been more widespread than initially thought. If anyone, no matter how unrelated, comes to your attention with these same symptoms, please contact me. We alone have the proper facilities to treat this particular type of exotic radiation poisoning. Which is why we will be transferring Mr. Masters to our facility as soon as the paperwork is completed."

"Of course."

The man in the white suit smiled, a purely professional gesture that didn't meet his eyes. He shook hands with the doctor and allowed the man to scurry away to his next patient. The man in white, however, stayed to watch Vlad as he struggled in the throes of some inner battle with... something. The man watched as Vlad's hand seemed to go intangible, phasing through the mattress before being yanked back out of the bed.

The man in white smiled again, this time genuine.


	2. The Facility

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Transferred from one hospital to another. Trapped and studied by the Guys in White as they realize they have never seen anything like this before.
> 
> Two minds in one body. Just a standard possession, right?

Agent R stood outside the padded cell. Within was the most interesting case he'd ever come across. On the surface it looked like a simple case of multiple personality disorder: two distinct minds within one brain, both of them resisting integration. The differences, however, were striking. First and most obvious, one personality had access to ghost talents and was strong enough to lend those talents to portions of the shared body. Second, neither personality seemed to be dominant over the other. Third and most important, both personalities retained complete awareness while the other was in control.

The personality designated as 'Masters' insisted it was the dominant personality. It resisted all efforts at integration but equally resisted all efforts at separation. It was overly emotional, easily became depressed, and tested as human using every measure they had. The problem was it was difficult to bring this one out of hiding when it submerged, difficult to keep it in control. Even if it was the original it wasn't dominant.

The personality designated as 'Ge Rouge' creeped out the entire staff. It likewise resisted all efforts at integration. It laughed at their efforts at separation. It was calm, scheming, and frightening when made angry. It seemed... overly protective and was very capable of actively preventing efforts at contacting Masters. This one confused the tests. The body was human but they couldn't quite verify if it was alive. All their data pointed to this as a very deep possession but in all their experience they'd never come across one like this.

It was... as though the personality 'Masters' had been... and still was... **willing**.

That couldn't be right.

Agent R looked through the little window on the cell door to make sure it was clear. Not that it was necessary; this case was possibly the most nonviolent that their organization had ever encountered. This nonviolence did nothing to assuage the agent's fears. On the contrary, every agent who worked with this case for more than a day feared this one more than any other. The blood-curdling screams of demon-possessed murderers were a welcome respite from the eternally disturbing calm that radiated from this man.

Agent R slid his keycard through the lock and popped open the cell door. In the middle of the floor knelt a thin pale man in a straitjacket. Long almost-white hair hung limp and oily down his back and over his eerily youthful face. That face was impassive, almost expressionless, his eyes closed. The eyes were the only way to tell who was in control.

Not the first time Agent R silently thanked those gods who watched over paranormal investigators that both personalities were willing to answer to the same name. "Vladimir?" he asked.

The man looked up at Agent R with blood red eyes.

"Ge Rouge," Agent R acknowledged. The man either didn't recognize it as a greeting or more likely just didn't care. "You're to be spending the afternoon with Dr. Michaels today."

Red eyes closed and the man gave a derisive snort. "Exorcism, integration, or interrogation?" he asked.

"She just wants to talk to you."

The man didn't answer, instead stared at him with those deep red eyes. Agent R felt his skin crawl as though those eyes stared right through him, gazing into his soul. For all they knew Ge Rouge was fully capable of that.

Agent R took a deep breath and motioned for the orderlies to come forward. Red eyes stared with the slightest smirk gracing thin lips. It gave the agent the strangest feeling, the realization that Vlad Masters was kept confined here only because the ghost who possessed him allowed it. For now.

*****

Vlad stayed still while the buckles were unlatched but as soon as the last one fell open...

He arched backwards, head lolling back to look behind him. His arms stretched out in front of him, hands grasping freely in a slow, luxurious motion. From there he reached overhead, rising up on his toes as he tried to touch the ceiling. Finally he reached behind him and linked his hands together before bending down and trying to twist his shoulders to bring his arms over his head. Through it all his expression was one of pure carnal bliss.

"So how often do they let you out of the straitjacket?" Dr. Michaels asked.

"They don't," Vlad said, fixing her with a cold blue stare. "But you know that."

She nodded.

Vlad stretched out in the chair provided for him. Even just the act of being able to sit in a chair felt novel. Ugh, he'd been here too long. "So other than answering questions you've asked a thousand times before, why are we here? What's your agenda for today?"

"Well, Mr. Masters, I was wondering if there was something you'd like to talk about."

One of those days then. Vlad stretched long legs in front of him, taking up nearly the entire floor space of the therapist's tiny office. If he didn't say anything he'd eventually be wrapped back up in the straitjacket and carted back to his cell. If he said anything then his orderlies would conveniently forget to feed him again before going out of their way to make the very thing he complained about even worse. There was no safe option.

_If you don't ask I will._

Vlad kept his mouth shut but silently invited the other to take control. Blue eyes closed as though in thought before blood red eyes opened in their place. He smirked as Dr. Michaels shrank back in her chair, hand going for the panic button.

"I simply have a question," Vlad said. "That is why we're here in your presence, is it not?"

The hand hovered over the button before slowly drawing back. "O-of course," she said. "Nothing wrong with a question."

"Even from me?" Vlad's red eyes seemed to glow for a second before fading back to their dull blood red.

"E-even from you, Ge Rouge," she said, voice wavering out of sheer nervousness. She still wasn't sure why she feared this case. He was rarely if ever violent and his voice was always deep and calm. That didn't keep her from feeling like this creature could gaze into her very being and pick out everything she'd ever done wrong.

"When will you be letting us go?" Vlad asked.

Ah. That was the one question that made her most uncomfortable. "I, ah..." She shook the cobwebs out of her brain. "Surely you can appreciate the, ah, unique situation your case presents. Most cases we've come across either responded to integration as a legitimate case of multiple personality disorder or responded to exorcism as a possession. There was only one other that didn't respond to either treatment. However, he was able to throw off the possessing spirit without our interference as its force lessened over time. You are entirely unique because the possessing force has not lessened. Rather you, Ge Rouge, appear to be gaining in strength."

"So you're going to hold us here until your curiosity is satisfied."

"Pretty much, yes," Dr. Michaels said.

Vlad settled back in his chair. This was... not unexpected. It was a reality that Masters had feared but never allowed himself to consider, that Ge Rouge expected from humans such as this. If they were going to have a future, a reality, they would have to take it. Vlad closed his eyes and his face went blank for a moment before emotion returned along with those pale blue eyes. He looked at Dr. Michaels with the expression of a hurt child. "Why do you do this?" he whispered.

"You're a scientist, Masters," Dr. Michaels said. "Or you would have been. Don't pretend you wouldn't do the same thing if given the chance. You represent a possibility the likes of which our organization has never before seen. In almost all possessions we've come across the ghost either cannot or can barely affect reality around it. A possessing ghost is effectively weaker than a free-floating one because of the effort spent on keeping the body under control. The ghost possessing you is so strong, it's command over your body so complete, that we've had to set up ghost shields around this complex to make sure you don't just walk through the walls and escape."

_Ghost shields you say..._

"And when have I shown that ability?" Vlad asked.

"You have not. But it is a possibility we have calculated. If, of course, Ge Rouge continues to strengthen."

"Of course." Vlad paused before letting a flare of Ge Rouge's power taint his voice. "So, what would cause him to strengthen?"

Dr. Michaels was about to answer Vlad's odd purr before realizing he was baiting her. He was planning something. "I... think that's enough for today," she said slowly. "The orderlies will get you strapped back into your restraints."

As he was led off he stared at her with those red eyes again. They sent a chill down her spine as though they were judging her. But she'd done nothing wrong.

Right?

*****

The lights were out, the cell was quiet. Despite that day's blissful hour with the damned straitjacket off Vlad was still stiff, still uncomfortable. He let himself fall backward, bouncing slightly on the cushioned floor. He knew from experience that thrashing about did nothing to alleviate the stiffness and usually brought orderlies running with their syringes and their sedatives. There were other ways to stretch...

He planted his feet on the floor and lifted, balancing his weight on his shoulders. His back arched and popped, releasing some of the tension that kept him perpetually coiled like a snake about to strike. He flopped back on the floor and sighed, bored.

That was the worst part about this place. Not being constantly bound in a straitjacket. Not the orderlies occasionally forgetting to feed him. Not the disturbed glances from people who were always ready to jump on the slightest excuse to drug him into oblivion. Not even the constant whispers of the ghost who resided in him, 'rode' him as Ge Rouge called it. No, it was the boredom. Long hours with nothing to do, no one to talk to, nothing to look at. Only the erratically timed attempts at 'therapy' distracted him from fading inward and never coming out.

_Pathetic._

And there were the whispers again. "I'm surprised you're willing to speak to me after today," he said aloud into the dark room. It wasn't as though anyone was there to listen. Even if they were, would they really be surprised to hear a lunatic talking to himself?

_If I am reluctant to speak to you, my horse, it is because you are unworthy._

Vlad made a noncommittal noise.

_After all, I draw you from the undertaker's knife expecting you to have a grand plan for our new life. Instead we're bound and forgotten in a cell. Poked, prodded, tested. Laughing at their small-minded antics as exorcism after exorcism is performed on us to no effect. Listening to you make excuses as to why we'll not integrate. Being tied to the rack and drugged over and over. What's not to like, hmm?_

"Don't do this," Vlad whispered.

_I offered you that contract because I felt the potential within you. I knew we could accomplish great things. With my power at your command we could have seen greatness. Instead you're wasting the both of us by languishing in the forgotten belly of a mental hospital wrapped up in a straitjacket!_

"Shut up..." Vlad warned, growling through gritted teeth.

_I should kill you here and now, horse. Force you to feel everything as they open your chest and remove your organs. As they pump you full of embalming fluid and lay you in your coffin. I'd keep you conscious and aware through it all, make you feel every little thing. Bind you to your dead body as you're lowered into the earth. Leave you there to slowly rot, never able to stop it, never able to shut off your mind, feeling everything forever!_

"STOP!" Vlad shrieked.

_Or better yet I should mount you fully. Throw you to the back of your mind as I take your body once and for all. Once I have access to my full power through your body I'll walk out of this prison into your world. Carve out a niche for my own and force service from the weak. Punish the unworthy. Ravish your women. And all you'll be able to do is watch, your voice nothing but the barest of whispers in the back of my mind._

"STOP IT!" Vlad screamed. "Shut up! SHUT UP shut up shutupshutup..." He let loose a hellish scream that collapsed into Ge Rouge's mad laughter as Vlad began to lose control over his own body, the ghost ripping it away.

The door to his padded cell was thrown open and suddenly reality snapped back into focus. Fear filled Vlad's mind as he realized he'd been set up by his own ghost. He rolled onto his belly and pushed himself up onto his knees, all the better to retreat into a corner.

"Don't do this," he begged. "Please no, don't do it. Put the needle down, you don't need that, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, I'll be quiet! Please, I didn't mean it!"

Two beefy orderlies grabbed him on either side and held him in place by his shoulders. One of them grabbed his head, twisting it uncomfortably to one side.

"NO!" Vlad shrieked. He knew what was coming. "Let go of me! No, no, NO! Nonononono!"

He screamed bloody murder, shrieking threats and curses, vowing revenge. He tried to pull himself out of their grip, thrashing about to loosen their hold over him. All it earned him were bruises as they gripped him tighter and then shook him to get him good and disoriented. A hand gripped him by the hair and yanked back, exposing his neck to the syringe.

Vlad screamed as he felt the bite of the needle. He could swear he felt the sedative burn as it entered his bloodstream, poisoning every cell it touched. He could feel his limbs getting heavy...

The next thing he knew he was thrown against the floor of his padded cell with as much force as his 'caretakers' could muster. He laid where he fell, unable to move as his sight grew blurry.

The sedative was its own unique curse. It paralyzed him, rendered him physically helpless. It silenced his mind, scrambled his ability to form coherent thoughts. It numbed his emotions, turning simple feeling into a difficult chore. It dulled his senses, taking everything he saw, smelled, heard, felt and turning it all gray. Unfortunately it did nothing to silence Ge Rouge, not like it used to.

_Now maybe you'll listen to me, insolent horse._

The most Vlad could summon was a vague indignant feeling.

_I did not bind myself to you so we could spend an eternity trapped in your filth as a curiosity. If I wanted mediocrity I would not have sought my own horse to mount, I would have bowed to the will of the bokor. We have been here long enough. As you have languished in bondage and silent rage I have grown stronger. I know you feel it, houngan. Even the humans have noticed._

Vlad figured that would explain why Ge Rouge was becoming less and less affected by the drugs.

_I am unaffected by the condition of our physical body. But in order to control it to do more than lay there and drool I need it undrugged and unaltered. In a few days they fall back into complacency..._

Vlad could feel Ge Rouge's pleasure as it thought of its plan. He could barely muster the will to share in it, much less think of what it meant.

_Three days, horse. We will be silent and cooperative for three days. So cooperative they will forget we're here. Then, when the time is right, you will give me control..._

Vlad gave up and fell into a deep, dark oblivion as Ge Rouge purred its plans into his ear. It was the closest thing to rest he'd had in a long, long time.

*****

Vlad's stomach growled. No one had bothered with him today, even forgetting to feed him. The stream of people moving in and out of this wing of the hospital bypassed him completely. Not that he minded. He could tell the orderlies were in one of their moods from the way they moved, the voices that drifted through the ventilation system. Today was a bad day to be at the mercy of the orderlies.

His blood ran cold when he realized he'd spoken too soon. Footsteps paused outside the door to his padded cell. A maddened face leered at him through the little window in his cell door. A beep and the door opened. Two orderlies came in. A big beefy one looked like he was anticipating some fun. A tall skinny one had a most disturbing look of sociopathic glee as he set a dinner tray on the floor.

Vlad cringed and shifted uncomfortably in his straitjacket. He knew those looks, he'd seen them countless times before. They were never a good sign.

"Aww, look, we got the crazy human today, George. Crazy as a dog."

"A fox," Vlad said. As soon as the words were out of his mouth his eyes went wide. He did not just...

_Yes you did..._

Vlad tried to dodge but couldn't as George's bony fist slammed into his cheek. The momentum threw him to the floor.

_Tonight. Very soon, my horse._

"You know, Reggie, the boy's right," said the skinny guy George. "The expression is 'crazy as a fox'. Or sometimes a loon."

"Shaddap. It duddn' matter," said the big guy Reggie. He strode over and grabbed Vlad by the hair, hoisting him to his knees. He grinned at Vlad's hiss of pain, leaning down far so his filthy leer filled Vlad's field of vision. Vlad glared right back, teeth bared, blue eyes flashing in anger. "It duddn' matter 'cause this dog is gonna howl tonight."

Reggie slammed Vlad face first into the food tray. Vlad shook and thrashed his head, trying to throw off the orderly or at least avoid inhaling anything. The hand at the back of his head twisted in his hair, dragging a shriek of pain out of him as laughter filled the room. Finally he was yanked upright, gasping.

"Lookit this. The dog won't eat his food."

Vlad growled, not caring that he was playing along with this sick, twisted game of theirs.

"Hold him down until he eats," Reggie said. "I'm gonna give him a little... incentive..."

Vlad was shoved back down. George wasn't as strong as the bigger one and so couldn't hold him still as Vlad tried to shake them off. He raised himself on his knees to gain more leverage...

"Good dog," Reggie praised, swatting Vlad on the ass.

Vlad froze. No... They rarely went this far... And no one would respond to his screams...

_Then give me control. Full control._

"Take it then," Vlad whispered.

"Oh I will," Reggie crowed, not realizing Vlad wasn't talking to him.

"Man, that's gross," George said. "He hasn't been cleaned in a week. He's gotta be filthy down there."

"Like I care."

_Not just that. I have to submerge you. You must give yourself to me. Become the voice in my ear. Drown in me._

Vlad felt grabbing fingers at his waist as they undid the crotch strap of his straitjacket. Then the world just fell away. It was like being dead again but this time there was no presence with him behind his eyes. This time...

Vlad watched from the back of his own mind as his body was puppetted around by the red eyed loa. This time he was the whisper in it's ear.

Ge Rouge opened his eyes. He wiggled his fingers within the confines of the straitjacket, flexed his shoulders, gathered his strength, and tossed his head back with enough force to rip away George's grip and throw Reggie to the ground. He pulled his feet under him and hauled himself upright.

The humans paused, unsure as they saw their prey's eyes weren't just red, they **glowed**. Ge Rouge smiled, a feral leer, as he accessed his own intangibility and pulled the straitjacket off over his head. He tossed the disgusting garment to the floor and growled.

George bolted to the door first.

"Stand... still..." Ge Rouge purred with a voice that oozed power. He purred more as George stopped in the open doorway, face twisted in terror as his body wouldn't obey him.

Precious seconds admiring his handiwork ended as a big meaty fist slammed into the side of his head with enough force to throw him to the ground. Ge Rouge turned over and glared up at the angry, frightened orderly. That glare turned into a grin as a faint pink mist sizzled around his fingertips.

_Please don't kill him._

Ge Rouge ignored the whisper in his ear. He couldn't afford the distraction. He picked himself up, raised his hands, and let all of that bottled rage fly out of him in a bolt of pink energy that threw Reggie against the padded wall. He smiled in triumph as the human looked down at his burned chest and screamed in pain.

_That was uncalled for._

"That was entirely called for now shut up and let me work," Ge Rouge snapped.

_At least grab one of their keycards._

An idea jolted through Ge Rouge's mind, one that left the whisper in his ear humming with approval. He slowly turned to George, an evil grin blooming over his face. "That is an excellent idea..." he purred.

George whimpered as the possessed man stalked up to him, hands grasping like claws, ghost-red eyes glowing, unnatural shadows collecting around him as reality itself warped. He closed his eyes and hoped it ended soon.

A long-fingered hand reached inside his pocket, snatched out his keycard, and then disappeared. George's eyes popped open, confused. He wasn't dead? But... What was the ghost going to do to him? Wait, where was the ghost?

The creak of a door caught his attention. Ge Rouge gave an easy grin from the hallway and let the cell door close, locking the orderlies inside.

Frantic pounding echoed from within the padded cell as Ge Rouge purred and his whisper laughed and laughed. "Scream louder, someone might come for you in a few hours," he mocked before heading off into the complex to make his escape.

First order of business was finding a supply closet for fresh clothing. The scrubs he wore were filthy from a week without access to a shower or even a bathroom. The supply closet was a few doors down, right around a corner. No one knew he was missing yet; no one ever patrolled when the orderlies were canvassing the high security wings. Normally a point of silent fury, now it was an advantage.

He ducked into the closet and found a whole cart of clean scrubs. He had the oddest urge to just jump in to feel all the clean everywhere, to bury his nose in the scent of clean...

_What are you doing?! Don't get distracted._

"Of course," Ge Rouge mumbled. He wiped away the grime of the padded cell before he picked out a pair of scrubs that fit him and got dressed. From there he creaked the door open and looked up and down the hallway. Clear.

_We're not just going to walk out of here, are we? They'll see us!_

"No they won't," Ge Rouge whispered. "Trust me, houngan. I'll get us out of here." He closed his eyes and concentrated on not being seen. Both he and his whisper gasped at the sensation, at the frisson of power that spread from his chest to engulf his entire body. Ge Rouge admired his handiwork, looking at the blank spot where his hand should have been visible.

_Oh my. That's impressive._

Ge Rouge was pleased that Vlad could appreciate power such as this. He ran off down the corridor.

The reinforced steel door that separated this secure wing from the rest of the facility stood bolted closed. Ge Rouge stepped up to it and took out the keycard he'd lifted. The little red light on the panel turned green and a loud buzzing sound declared the door unlocked. He pulled it open.

"Oh crap," he whispered.

In the doorway stretched a shining, shifting membrane of glowing green. So this was a ghost shield. He reached out to touch it but it zapped him.

_Let me have control. Maybe if I'm the one walking through it then it won't notice you._

That made about as much sense as anything else. Ge Rouge let go and began to fall...

Vlad came to, his body sprawled uncomfortably on the floor. That was... disorienting. He stood up on shaky legs and took a deep breath before walking through the ghost shield.

"It worked," Vlad said.

The alarm started to blare.

"Or maybe it didn't," he said. "What do I do?"

Footsteps were approaching from one direction.

_Run, you idiot._

Vlad didn't question the voice of his ghost. He ran. The blank white hallways of the psyche wing quickly gave way to the blank white walls of a bank of offices. He ran past closed doors before ducking behind another corner. Footsteps were coming from this direction, too. There was nowhere for him to turn...

_They won't see you if you don't want them to._

"What?"

_Be quiet. Close your eyes. Hide behind the air. Blend in with space and time. They won't see you._

Vlad couldn't help but take the offered advice. He didn't even think of what he might be accepting. A shudder ran through him as the footsteps rounded the corner right next to him. He looked directly into the eyes of a man in a crisp white suit, eyes that scanned the wall then dismissed it as he continued stalking down the corridor.

Vlad let out a breath he didn't know he'd been holding and ran off again.

"This way!" he heard in the distance.

Invisibility broke as he lost his concentration; he was too busy running for his life to keep it up. He turned down corridor after corridor, not really sure where he was going, footsteps always behind him until...

Vlad turned a corner and found himself at a dead end. He plastered himself against the wall and slid down it, trying to hold back tears of frustration. He was so close to freedom...

_The wall isn't there._

"You're insane," Vlad lamented, not caring about keeping quiet anymore. The men in white suits knew where he was and soon enough they'd find him and he'd be bound again in that straightjacket and probably more than just that because now he'd shown himself able to escape it and now he'd never escape...

_I'm not insane, horse. Close your eyes if it'll help but the wall is only there because you believe it to be! Convince yourself it isn't there and it won't be! You can walk right through it if only you allow yourself._

Vlad wiped his eyes and looked at the blank white wall. It looked real. It felt real. But Ge Rouge had been right before.

Wait! If he did this, didn't this count as using Ge Rouge's power? Wouldn't he begin to lose his identity? Vlad shook his head. What did it matter? Go back to the cell or begin fulfilling the terms of his contract? Lose all of his autonomy or just a little bit?

Vlad closed his eyes and phased through the wall just as a pair of orderlies rounded the corner. He never got to see the looks on their faces.

A few steps forward and the tingly feeling of solidity ended. Vlad opened his eyes to find himself standing in what looked like some sort of waiting room. He dropped the intangibility and bolted for the door. He could smell the night air. Close, so close...

He found the main doors of the compound. Vlad closed his eyes and ran straight for them, attempting this intangibility thing again.

WHAM!

The floor here was nowhere near as inviting as the floor of his padded cell. At least the ceiling looked different. He shook his head and hauled himself to his feet. He... couldn't phase through this door? Wait, why not?

_Ghost shield, you stupid horse. You can't get through a ghost shield if you're using ghost powers._

Right. Vlad tried pushing but it was locked. The keycard didn't work either. But wait a minute...

Vlad slipped the keycard into the crack of the door and fiddled with pushing the door in just the right way...

Click.

"YES!" Vlad crowed before gently pulling the doors open. The green membranous ghost shield was theoretically all that stood between him and freedom. He reached out to touch it.

Something... wasn't entirely right here. He could push through it, sort of, but even with Ge Rouge submerged in the depths of his mind the ghost shield still resisted him. Vlad forced himself through it regardless of the pain; he wasn't going to let some stupid shield prevent his escape...

It burned like peeling off an adhesive bandage. It burned and pulled, yanking at every cell. Still he wasn't going to let it keep him. He screamed as he pushed through the ghost shield...

A snap and a fizzle and he fell to the ground. Vlad laid there for a moment before realizing the floor was different. Inside was stinky carpet and plastic sheeting. This was...

Oh my god. Dirt!

Vlad got up on his hands and knees and stared into the darkness of the dead of night. Stunted trees spread out around him, their leaves rustling with a light wind. Dogs barked in the distance off to his right.

Wait, dogs?

_Don't celebrate just yet, houngan. Getting out of the facility was the easy part. Now comes the hard part: escaping._

Vlad hauled himself to his feet with a groan. He silently cursed the ghost within him for not letting him in on the difficulties of this plan as he ran off into the wilderness.

Running through the forest was a special hell. Sticks, sharp rocks, errant roots all tore at his bare feet. Plants and low-hanging branches whipped at him as he ran away from those dogs, swearing as they grew closer and closer all the time. He needed to find somewhere where he could lose them, where he could throw off their scent...

Suddenly the ground stopped being there and Vlad fell down the bank of a dried creek. An instinct that he knew wasn't his left him feeling tingly all over as he landed with a soft thud, somehow his ankle not actually broken as it should have been. Instead it just phased through things instead of twisting horribly.

"You did that," he whispered.

_I did. Ask how I did it later. First, escape. Run down this creek bed, I have an idea._

"It had better be a good one," Vlad grumbled as he got to his feet and did just that. He could hear one of the dogs stopping at the bank to whine along the edge while the other barreled down it. Barking grew very close very fast as Vlad ran, not watching where he was going. Suddenly his feet got caught and he fell forward. His hands darted out to catch his fall...

The ground itself seemed to splash around him. But how could that happen? Dirt was dirt, it wasn't liquid. It's not like this was...

Vlad pulled his arms free as he felt the rest of his body begin to sink. Dark mud oozed around his thighs, creeping up his legs as it grasped as much of him as it could and began to suck him down.

"This is your plan?!" Vlad demanded. "Quicksand?"

_Quiet! They'll hear you!_

"They already hear me," Vlad snapped as the barking dog rounded a curve in the creek's course and charged right at him. He watched in fascination as the dog floundered just as he had, as barks turned to panicked whines. The dog thrashed and struggled, its efforts only driving it deeper faster. Worse, it's movements affected the mud around him, causing him to sink faster as well.

The dog's legs were stuck fast, mud was covering its body, only its head was left above the surface. Vlad watched in morbid fascination as the hound's snow white fur was stained black as it sank slowly, slowly...

He almost didn't see the white-gloved hand that grabbed the dog's collar and began to pull.

*****

Agent N slid down the bank of the dry creek and jogged along its course. One of the hounds had followed their escaped research subject down this way. Perhaps the dog would have the man by now, treed or cornered or even in a bite hold. If not, well, they could organize a search party in the morning once it got light. Their subject was a malnourished human kept in a straitjacket for the better part of two years. He wasn't going to get very far.

The agent picked up his pace as the dog's cries went from his tracking howl to distressed cries. He turned a curve in the creek's course and stopped cold.

His dog was up to its neck in mud and still sinking. Beyond it was their escaped patient. Vlad Masters was mired up to his waist in quicksand, black mud coating his hands up to the elbows. Yet he made no effort to escape; he seemed to be watching the dog. Agent N knelt down on the ground just out of reach of the mud's hold and grabbed the collar of his dog. He pulled with one hand and reached another under the dog's chest. He pulled the dog closer to the edge and the surface, close enough that he could slide both hands under the dog's chest and pull him out.

Through it all Vlad just watched. First one paw, then another, then with a wet squelch the dog was pulled free of a muddy grave. The agent held the dog for a moment before letting go. The dog laid down, exhausted.

Agent N crept on his hands and knees to where the ground just started to get soft. He reached out with one gloved hand. "Vlad, please, take my hand," he said.

_No, don't take his hand._

Vlad's eyes went blank as two voices warred within him. He reached out towards the offered hand while the rest of him pulled away. Within...

_You don't honestly want to go back there. Locked up, wrapped in a straightjacket and left to rot in a cell for days on end without food, water, dignity. You humans are disgusting creatures._

"I don't want to die, either!" Vlad shouted into the blackness of his own mind. "If I die here I might as well have died from the ecto-acne. Then at least I'd have died with some form of dignity."

The red-eyed man trapped with him merely gave an unimpressed stare. _There is no dignity in death. Here or there._

"Then what do you suggest we do?" The familiar despair welled up in Vlad, engulfing his mind as surely as the quicksand was about to engulf his body. "Just let me die and you'll be released."

_I have a plan._

"You and your plans."

_You're not going to die today, houngan. Take my power for your own, all of it, just for a moment. You'll know what to do with it._

"No! Please, no! You know what will happen! You can't honestly trust me not to use it again and again once we're free."

Ge Rouge smiled, fangs glinting in a light with no source. He wrested control of their body away from the human.

Vlad came back to reality with gloved hands grabbing his wrist and slowly pulling him free of the mire. Well, we can't have that... He fixed Agent N with a disdainful blood red stare and phased that arm intangible. The agent fell backwards and Vlad was sucked deeper still.

Agent N picked himself up and froze as he took in the scene before him. Ge Rouge controlled Vlad's body now, calm red eyes gazing at him in dispassionate challenge. Vlad was sunk into quicksand up just past his waist. It seemed to move and ripple around him. Agent N's eyes went wide as he realized...

Ge Rouge was thrashing about under the surface, forcing it to suck him under faster. "You'll die," Agent N said. "Both of you. Please don't do this."

"Why not?" Vlad asked in Ge Rouge's deep purring voice. "What can you offer us if we live? To be forgotten in a padded cell? Bound in soiled canvas for days on end, unable to move to escape our own filth? You humans are disgusting creatures."

"We can..." Agent N searched for something, anything to try and bargain with this creature just long enough for Masters to regain control. "We can free you of that human shell! No longer will you be bound within a prison of flesh and blood. You, Ge Rouge, can be returned to your true form! Whatever that might be."

Vlad laughed. "You don't comprehend us in the slightest! I'll not leave and the human Masters will not bid me leave. We live and die together, human. I can't dismount my horse. He's made sure of it."

Agent N stood there, running out of options as Vlad was running out of time. Dark mud crept up his chest, staining the white cotton scrubs he wore. Approaching footsteps gave him hope, the hope that someone else would have an idea or at least some rope.

Agent R came up to the scene. The muddy hound blinked up at him. "Agent, you're involved in some grievous cleanliness breaches," he said.

"Paperwork can wait," Agent N snapped. He pointed at Vlad. "Tell me you've got some rope 'cause ol' Red Eyes there won't listen to reason."

"I might make the same observation about you," Vlad said, clearly amused.

Agent R took in the scene and winced. This was... bad. At least he did have rope. He pulled a few feet out of the coil and tossed the end at Vlad.

Vlad looked at it, picked it up, and tossed it back toward the agents. He gave them a challenging look.

Agent R nodded. "Ge Rouge, I need to talk to Masters," he said.

"Fous le camp," Vlad spat. _Fuck off._

"Ge Rouge, please. I need to know that Masters knows you're doing this to him."

Vlad smiled, an evil smile as his red eyes flashed. "Oh he knows..."

Agent R made the effort not to scream in frustration. Instead he started tying the rope into a lasso-type knot.

"Yes, because a tourniquet to the neck is an excellent idea," Vlad mocked.

The agent merely glared.

Vlad sighed and looked down. He was sunk up to his armpits, the mud crawling up to his shoulders. It wouldn't be long now. He guessed it couldn't hurt... He closed his eyes and his face went blank. When he opened his eyes again they were pale blue. Human.

"Masters, thank god," Agent N said. "We're going to toss you a rope. Please, just grab it and we'll pull you out of there."

Agent R tossed out the lasso and looped it gently over Vlad's head.

"Okay, now put your arms through the loop and tighten that around your chest so we can pull you out of there."

Vlad pulled the rope off and held it in front of him. Whispers in the back of his mind offered so much, a new start, a new life... _Take what I offer, houngan. I will ride you hard and fast but in the end you will learn to **fly**._

If they thought he was dead then he could start over...

_Yes..._

A whole new life. No longer the orphaned boy born of a suspected Soviet spy. No longer forced to rot here in a facility run by disturbingly emotionless men in pristine white suits.

_Do it, houngan. Take my power. I'll show you how to use it._

Still, he remembered the terms of the contract. As power was offered and used, so would both parties lose themselves, merging into a new and unique whole. Never separate, never apart, never again to be seen as human. Was it worth it?

Vlad looked directly at the agents standing at the edge of the quicksand and threw the rope at them. He then plunged his arms down into the mud.

Even just the **chance** was worth it.

"Dammit, Masters!" Agent R shouted. He tossed the lasso out again, not caring that he'd strangle Vlad by trying to pull him out by his neck.

Vlad used his arms to pull himself deeper and leaned his head back. When the lasso was yanked back by the agents it snapped closed harmlessly.

The world went quiet as mud filled his ears. He looked up at the night sky, not sure if it was the last thing he'd ever see.

_Now take a deep breath._

Vlad took one last deep inhale before he was sucked under and everything went dark. Cold. Silent. Silent save for the voice whispering in the back of his mind.

_Ah, it's been a long time since I was buried alive..._ Vlad shivered slightly at the wistful tone in Ge Rouge's words. _Right. Save that for later. Now, houngan, you are going to reach inside yourself. Feel your inner being, your human mind. There's more to you now than your humanity._

Vlad didn't feel anything. Mostly he just felt cold.

_Pay attention. Ignore your body, it's unimportant. Ignore everything else. Within you lurks a spark of power. We all hold such a spark in us, houngan. I want you to reach for it. Touch it and let it envelop you._

Vlad wasn't sure about any spark but he certainly felt enveloped. The cold pressed on him, squeezing him from the outside in. He could feel it seeping into every aspect of his being, numbing him everywhere as his lungs started to burn. Everywhere except...

_Yes!_

It felt like an electric shock. Vlad lost about half of his air in a thick cascade of bubbles as his body absorbed the jolt and... nothing happened. He began to squirm, to panic.

_Shhhh. Calm down, Vladimir. Now then. Try again. Wrap your mind around that spark. Entrap it. Entice it. Capture it. Let it burn. Let its fire engulf you. Let yourself burn..._

He had no choice but to try again. He reached out with his mind to cradle that precious spark. A frisson of hot power shot up Vlad's spine as he touched it, forcing the rest of his air from his lungs. Time stopped for a moment while he waited for the inevitable inhale that would drown him but...

But he didn't need to breathe.

*****

First one then another stream of bubbles broke the surface. Agent N stared at them as they popped, little circles of mud that marred the otherwise unassuming ground. He felt Agent R put a hand on his shoulder but didn't move to acknowledge it.

"He's dead," Agent N whispered.

"Don't think about it," Agent R suggested.

That brought Agent N out of his stupor. "How in the hell am I not supposed to think about it?!" he demanded. "We just watched a man die!"

Agent R grabbed his errant companion by the shoulders and shook him before panic could set in. "We did no such thing!" he snapped. "We did everything we could for him but we were too late. That was not a man. That thing that just died, that hadn't been a human being for a very long time and there's nothing we could do to change that. We **tried**."

"But-"

"No 'buts', Agent. That wasn't human and this case is now closed. You will purge it or there will be an inquiry. Understood?"

Agent N looked back at... No. Agent R was right. Vlad Masters wasn't human anymore. But maybe... Maybe death would free him of the thing that stole his humanity. "Understood," he said.

"Good. This case is closed, the records will be sealed. As far as anyone is concerned Vladimir Masters died at Wisconsin General nineteen months ago. Now then, we've got some serious cleanliness breaches to file."

Agent N nodded sadly and both men headed back to the facility, the mud-caked white hound following quietly.

*****

Hours. Days. Minutes. Seconds. Time lost its meaning as Vlad floated nowhere, everywhere. No breath or heartbeat to count the time. No light to provide a point of reference. No gravity to tell him which way was up. He wondered if this is what it felt like to be dead, really dead.

_I wouldn't know..._

Vlad's mental ear pricked at Ge Rouge's voice. It was... different somehow. A little more nasal, a little less purr. A little more like his own human voice.

_I was never alive. Death to me is freedom. Freedom from a physical shell, freedom from the contract. It is a beautiful feeling._

Vlad had to agree with that assessment. The loss of forced bondage, the loss of humiliating treatment, the loss of himself... It was no loss at all.

It was indeed a beautiful feeling.

*****

The ground quaked as black hands clawed their way out of the mud. The ground gave way, splashing like water in a pond as a man burst to the surface with a great gasp and a shake. He climbed out of his impromptu grave and watched as the mud rippled, settling down to pretend nothing had happened. To wait for another victim, hopefully one who would stay dead.

The man shuddered as intangibility overtook his entire body. Black mud splashed to the ground, taking most of their stains with them. When he returned to reality the man looked at himself in wonder, as though seeing himself for the first time.

He wore the white scrubs of an escaped mental patient. A snow white cloak draped over his shoulders to the ground. The cloak was lined in satin as red as the glow of the man's eyes. His hands, feet, and neck were stained black with mud, a stain that would not fall away. Pale bluish skin and long black hair added their own inhumanity to this dead man who somehow still breathed. This undead man.

He looked up into the deep blue sky as it lightened with the coming dawn. A new day, a new life.

A new world full of nothing but possibility.


	3. Indulgence

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Experimenting and publishing on oneself if hard work. Sometimes...
> 
> Sometimes one's ghost demands something special.
> 
> Just don't read this chapter while eating.

Vladimir Masters huddled in the darkness. Long silver hair hung oily over his shoulders, a reminder that he needed to steal a shower at some point. The sounds of the interstate roared dull and constant, far enough away that the town had begun to collapse with the loss of its main source of income. It was a mixed blessing. On one hand the town was small enough that he had to be careful what, where, and when he scrounged for food, materials, clothing, news... On the other...

No one would come looking for an escaped grad student turned 'mental' patient here. The building was abandoned, left for the county to come take care of but of course they never did. No electricity, no running water, no curious locals, no mad scientists, no distractions. Out here Vlad had space, privacy, the ability to practice these 'ghost powers' Jack's idiocy had left him with. Out here he could experiment.

Out here he could indulge himself.

Indulgence was exactly what Vlad was thinking of for tonight. As disgusting as he found it to be, his ghost tended to disobey command when he ignored the cravings of his inhuman side.

Vlad pulled himself off of his 'bed', really little more than a nest of discarded fabrics, blocks of foam, and gathered straw. He passed by the shelves that held his instruments, mostly old Army surplus and cast-off odds and ends. A typewriter salvaged from an estate sale took up one corner. Gallon jugs of water and two cracked plastic coolers passed for his larder. Unless it was raining hard enough he had to sneak into houses to take showers and replenish his water supply. Food was stolen; what little money he found, stole, or panhandled was used on experiments, mail, or to keep the typewriter working.

He preferred this to the hell that was that inhumane excuse of a facility. He still had nightmares about it.

He had nightmares about many things. Indulging himself was one such thing. He slid one cooler away from the other and cracked it open with a cringe and a whine of longing. He felt both nauseous and hungry as he saw it was ready.

Years of research before the accident should have prepared him for this. Unfortunately he'd never thought to study a ghost's eating habits. No one had. Everyone just assumed ghosts were dead and therefore didn't need to eat. While that was true...

That didn't mean ghosts couldn't choose to indulge themselves. Just as humans ate to enjoy the food they consumed so too did ghosts eat because they liked the taste. It was just that...

Vlad closed his eyes and tried not to think about it. He reached inside at the fire that burned in him and felt a frisson of power draw up his spine. He opened his eyes and the room glowed red, shadows banished. The night was as bright as day with these ghost-eyes, just... a bit red around the edges. He looked down at the contents of the cooler and shuddered in anticipation.

Ge Rouge was pleased. All Vlad could do was hope it ended soon.

A black-stained hand reached inside, past the rich, sweet, mouth-watering smell to the carefully aged contents. A basket of strawberries, a few bunches of grapes, and what was once a bag full of plums. The strawberries were withering, a dark film and pale green fur growing over most of them. The grapes were wrinkled, many bursting like tiny little bombs full of fuzzy white cotton. The plum skins had cracked, filling the plastic produce bag with a soupy mixture of plum flesh, strips of skin, and fermented juice.

Intellectually he knew none of this would give his human side more than a minor stomachache. That didn't mean he could convince that pesky mortal half to shut up and enjoy this. He'd waited a long time for this, had to wait until the local store had fresh fruit and steal enough so he could lay this down to rot and die. That wasn't very often, not out here, not after the season was over.

The loa didn't understand the human's reluctance. Vlad didn't just enjoy alcohol, he **coveted** it during those rare occurrences that they could find some. They both did. This was dead fruit, same as wine. The sweet taste of fruit, the earthy notes of fungus, the sharp tang of fermentation, the melange of so much death it made his mouth water in anticipation. He picked up a strawberry and watched the fur wave slightly, enticingly in air currents. He bit into it.

Marvelous.

*****

Almost an hour later found Vlad curled in his nest, his arms around his belly. Oily silver hair splayed out behind him, pale skin gleamed in the faint moonlight. All too human. He felt his stomach twitch and sat up just in time for a fume-tainted burp. He clamped his hand over his mouth, not daring to let anything else come up lest Ge Rouge take it as an insult. It would not be the first time.

Vlad's ghost was a demanding one. He couldn't imagine every ghost being as indulged as this one and yet it still demanded more, demanded he **serve** it like it was some sort of god. It knew exactly how to coerce what it wanted out of him. It made him indulge it as often as possible, and sometimes more often. Payment, it seemed, for the experiments that he conducted to keep them safe.

He could still taste it...

Disgusting.


	4. Self-Experimentation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He was on the run, lost, alone. He had to find a way to keep them from using him again.
> 
> Self-experimentation is an ancient and venerable tradition among scientists.

It was insane.

It was completely, doubtlessly, sugar-frosted _insane_.

Brilliantly insane.

After all, they weren't interested in saving him or curing him or even exorcising him. No. They studied him. They strapped him to tables and ran electrodes into him. They took notes. They exposed him to things just to watch the ecto-acne bloom. They poked and prodded him, they took samples, they tore away tissues, pride, ego, anything they could to find what they were looking for.

But they never found it. 

Vlad knew that it was his ghost who'd kept them from finding it. From finding the contract, from finding ways to duplicate it, to bring more ghosts under control. And in the end it was his ghost who'd rescued him, saved him, allowed his escape.

And now he had this new form, these new powers. Powers that were so difficult to control, so strange. So dangerous.

He could feel himself slipping away every moment he spent wrapped in his ghost's guise. Red eyes stared at him in the mirror, even in human form.

But if he stopped they'd catch him.

*****

Perhaps the most interesting breed of ghost is the individual. A particularly powerful or unexpected death can sometimes result in a ghost that is a full copy of the living mind it sprang from. This is the breed that is most likely to insist they are, in fact, not dead. Occasionally they may be at least partially correct. There are reported cases of ghosts, known locally as loa, inhabiting 'dead' bodies with such skill that the body retains physical function including respiration and pulse (Hurston 1942).

What makes this breed interesting is not its insistence that they are not dead. Nor is it their ability to possess the unwary; any ghost of sufficient power is capable of possessing a body, living or dead. It is their physical structure. The individual is the only breed of ghost known to have an elemental core. The source of their power, the core is at its simplest the structure that grants the ghost tangibility and physical form. The known core types seem to involve variations of the four elements of phlogiston theory: earth, air, fire, and water (Priestley 1774) and a fifth element best described as Force (Tesla 1925). Known variations include Ice, Sulfur, Flame, Gas, and Magnetism. It has been theorized that core variations may also include Steam, Electricity (Tesla 1885), and even Radiation (Anonymous 1899).

-Masters, V. **Variation and Specialization in the Ghost Zone**. _Journal of Paranormal Theory_ , 1987.

*****

There was only one thing to do. Only one way to save himself. They wanted to study him. To learn what he was, what had happened to him. To research him.

Fine.

He would give them what they wanted. And he would do it so well that they never bothered him again.

If he published first he would be useless to them.

But they weren't the only ones who noticed.

*****

Despite theoretical work to the contrary (Masters 1987), no evidence has been found that ghosts can be separated into multiple species. Rather all ghosts can be considered variations of a single class of phenomena. It is a fallacy to grant ghosts the qualities normally associated with life forms. It is the same fallacy that considers fire, a chemical reaction, to be alive for no reason other than it fits the logical requirements for life (birth, growth, reproduction, death).

For the sake of study, ghosts can be placed on a spectrum based on their power level (Spengler 1986). On the weaker edge of this spectrum is the imprint. Basic psychological imprints represent the vast majority of spectral phenomena in a given area. Above the imprint is the common vapor and the myriad of forms it takes. Next is the revenant, known by some researchers as the 'individual' (Masters 1987). Highest on the spectrum are those ghosts powerful enough to have been mistaken as gods in previous eras. Gozer the Gozerian (Spengler, et al. 1984) and Technus the Master of Technology (Masters 1988) are known examples.

-Spengler, et al. **Variation of Spectral Power Levels**. _Journal of Psychical Research_ , 1989.

*****

At first he was delighted. Someone was taking notice in his work. He was cited as a source. But then he read closer, heard what they were really saying.

Those bastard ghostbusters decided they were going to discredit his ideas.

He didn't want to. He knew it was a bad idea. But he was right. His ideas were right. They were based off of real ghosts, off of spirits he'd found, talked to, off of experiments done on Ge Rouge and his own possession.

In the end Vlad didn't have a choice. Ge Rouge pounded out a reply on their ancient typewriter and had it sent off before Vlad could stop him.

*****

So rather than add legitimacy to our mutual field of study by accepting the concept of speciation in the Ghost Zone you've decided to insult my work in the public forum. Fine. Where's your data, Ghostbusters? Or are you too busy imprisoning individuals, sorry, 'revenants' for the crime of existing to collect data on them? Two can play at this game. And unlike others I might name, I have the data to back my conclusions.

And Technus is nowhere near the same power level as Gozer. If you'd ever met him you'd realize that.

-Masters, V. _Journal of Psychical Research Letters_. 1989.

*****

Vlad was right. It was a bad idea. It was a supremely bad idea. Because of Ge Rouge's vendetta they'd been in one place too long. They were traced.

They were found.

All his notes, half-finished papers, his equipment, all of it lost. Even his clothes. He'd been surprised naked and half-asleep in a night raid. The desert air was thick with thunder, the storm was brewing around them as they broke in.

It was all he could do to grab the typewriter and fly. He transformed and shot off into the night sky as the rain began to fall. Off into the thunderhead. He remembered dodging hail, dragged this way and that by twisting winds, Ge Rouge howling with glee using his voice.

He remembered the lightning. Falling from the sky.

It was some sort of miracle that the typewriter survived.

*****

The first lightning strike initiated the core flare. The ghost was observed facilitating subsequent lightning strikes by reaching up toward the storm. Each strike seemed to represent separate peaks of activity within a single flare, suggesting the core flare phenomenon is a complex one. Considerable involuntary action was recorded affecting the ghost during the flare including vocalizations and physical arousal. While no equipment was available to record elemental activity in the vicinity of the ghost during the core flare, after the flare the ghost involuntarily produced a charge of several hundred volts for multiple hours. With concentration the ghost was able to direct this involuntary charge through induction to do work in completed circuits with a maximum resistance of 10 ohms. Despite observations of conscious control the charge must still be classified as 'involuntary' as the ghost was unable to suppress it until after it was naturally depleted.

Subsequent analysis showed the core flare to be largely accidental in origin. Figure 4 shows the power extinction curve of this particular ghost's charge following a similar core flare. Further experimentation is necessary to determine if the flare destabilized the storm's electrical charge enough to cause lightning strikes. If so this would represent the first time an individual was recorded affecting regional weather patterns.

-Masters, V. **Observational Analysis of the Electrical Core**. _Journal of Psychical Research_ ,1990.

*****

It took almost a year before he felt willing to publish again. Amazing that in that time he hadn't been forgotten. Or maybe it was because no one had ever survived studying a creature like him.

Ge Rouge's core was the most powerful drug, the most dangerous weapon he could possibly imagine. And now he had access to it. But when he looked at his hands he saw them burned black. When he gazed in a mirror he saw red eyes, a blood red cloak, and white, so much white. When he spoke all he heard was Ge Rouge's purr. 

He didn't know who he was anymore.

*****

The revenant's elemental core represents possibly the most deadly power that any ghost is capable of wielding. This core is the reason why the revenant cannot merely subsist on psychokinetic energy as do all other ghosts (Spengler, et al. 1984). Instead the revenant must periodically surround itself with its own element or else it begins wasting away as its energy slowly bleeds out into its surroundings. In essence it starves. The speed at which this bleeding occurs is dependent upon the strength of the core, the will of the revenant, and the laws of thermodynamics (Masters 1987).

Aside from this bleed a core will also interact with the outside world through the flare. A core flare can occur when a revenant is overwhelmed by emotion or its own power, or has simply glutted itself on its element and is essentially vomiting the excess. The power of the flare will spread unchecked, stripping all control away from the ghost. In particularly powerful flares it may even alter reality on a local level (Masters 1990). Long-term exposure to a revenant is often fatal for this reason (Grimassi 1981).

Core variations can be determine through observation or through calculation. Variants such as Steam, Radiation, Electricity, and Entropy were initially determined through calculation because of the inherent foolish danger in studying such unstable cores. Observation of these dangerous cores should not be considered more important than the safety of the researcher; to place data collection over the life of the scientist is insanity.

-Spengler, et al. **Elemental Cores and the Second Law**. _Journal of Psychical Research_. 1991.

*****

They were wrong. The ghostbusters were wrong. Very wrong. In many ways.

As Vlad, as Ge Rouge, hid in yet another safehouse, yet another condemned building on the edge of society, stealing to survive, begging and panhandling for the money he needed to buy equipment, to keep the typewriter running, to pay journal fees and tariffs and taxes... As he cowered there...

He knew. Those pitiful little humans were wrong. It wasn't the ghost's power that was to be feared. Sure it could kill. But the ghost's contract was so much worse.

*****

Calculation is useful but cannot replace observation. Calculation requires accurate theory upon which to build a base. Accurate theory requires observation. The amount of actual observation of the so-called "safe" individual, sorry, "revenant" cores is so appallingly dismal that your best theories couldn't even account for half of the observations made on a single electrical core. If safety were paramount in science would we have ever shoveled coal into a steam engine or would a single boiler explosion have dashed all hopes of ever progressing past the horse and rider? Would we ever have made an attempt to understand the logic and science behind death and undeath or would we continue cowering in fear of the dark because we were afraid?

Your concern for my safety is noted and dismissed.

-Masters, V. _Journal of Psychical Research Letters_. 1991.

*****

He couldn't keep doing this. He really couldn't. He couldn't keep letting Ge Rouge imprison him in the back of his own mind while the ghost took his vengeance on the puny human scientists. _They don't know any better_ , he whispered. 

“I don't care.”

 _They think I'm in danger. We can't convince them otherwise, you know this_.

“You are in danger, Vlad. You have no idea what I'm capable of in this body of yours. Of ours.”

_They're not going to let this go._

“I don't care, Masters. You wanted to study us, to make us useless to those men in white suits. Well this is my price. You will pay it in some way or another.”

*****

The seduction of death and unlife is a known phenomenon. From Bram Stoker's seductive Dracula to Anne Rice's anti-hero Lestat the line between living and dead has long been one sought after by fools and romantics. Though it is not as publicly acknowledged ghosts have that same hold over those so inclined. The romanticization of those souls and monsters trapped between this world and what lies beyond is a dangerous phenomenon that has claimed dozens of lives over the centuries (Tobin, 1965).

This seduction is what makes the revenant the most dangerous ghost on the spectrum of psychokinetic power. Imprints and vapors are not complex enough to attract the attention of a human in such a manner (Spengler, et al 1984). Those ghosts above the level of the revenant are no longer human enough for any but the most debased persons to feel attraction to. The revenant itself, with its mostly human guise and its natural taboo power, is the type most capable of seducing a weak-willed researcher away from his work (Stantz 1984). The dangers are multiple and complex. In addition to turning a legitimate researcher into a cultist the revenant is fully capable of outright killing its victim. Revenants react to strong emotion with their inherently unstable elemental cores and can easily kill a human in the throes of passion (Masters 1990).

-Venkmen, P. **Spectrophilia: A Review of its History and Dangers**. _Journal of Psychic Deviancy_. 1991.

*****

“If only you knew, human. If only you knew.”

Six years. Six years since he signed that damned contract and he'd picked up the ghost's speech patterns. He was losing his ability to think of them as separate entities anymore. There was no difference. Not anymore.

So who was he? Who were they?

It didn't feel right to call his ghost 'Ge Rouge'; a mere title no longer described everything there was to this ghost. Vlad's human name didn't fit him, either. 

He sat in the darkness of night in his safehouse, yet another one. So many places he'd hidden. In the forest, lurking outside resort cabins like a monster in the night. In a boat stolen from a wharf, beached in a smuggler's cove. In the desert, in towns dying of progress. But his favorite was here in the stinking bayou, left alone amid the alligators. He gazed out into the night, heard the deafening roar of insects.

He needed a new name. They both did.

But this was the human realm. They had to keep his human name for some things. Vlad Masters would exist in whatever function was necessary. A name to hide behind, a human disguise.

He wasn't human anymore. But nor was he a ghost. He was something different, now. Something more than either of them. He needed a name to reflect that.

 _Plasmius_.


End file.
